AN ODYSSEY OF K'S BY WILBUR D. NESBIT I've traveled up and down this land But somehow can not understand These towns with names chock-full of K's. For instance, once it fell to me To pack my grip and quickly go— I thought at first to Kankakee But then remembered Kokomo. "Oh, Kankakee or Kokomo," Then to the ticket man I went— He was a snappy man, and bald, Behind an iron railing pent And I confessed that I was stalled. "A much K'd town is booked for me," I said. "I'm due to-morrow, so I wonder if it's Kankakee Or if it can be Kokomo." "There's quite a difference," growled he, "Twixt Kokomo and Kankakee." He spun a yard of tickets out The folded kind that makes a strip And leaves the passenger in doubt When the conductor takes a clip. He flipped the tickets out, I say, And asked: “Now, which one shall it be? I'll sell you tickets either way— To Kokomo or Kankakee." And still I really did not know— I thought it might be Kokomo. At any rate, I took a chance; He struck his stamp-machine a blow And I, a toy of circumstance, Was ticketed for Kokomo. Upon the train I wondered still If all was right as it should be. Some mystic warning seemed to fill My mind with thoughts of Kankakee. The car-wheels clicked it out: “Now, he Had better be for Kankakee!" Until at last it grew so loud, At some big town I clambered out "Where do you wish to go?" cried he. Well, anyhow, I did not heed The message that they sent to me. I went, and landed wrong indeedWent all the way to Kankakee. Then, in a rush, I doubled back Went wrong again, I'd have you know. There was no call for me, alack! Within the town of Kokomo. 'And then I learned, confound the luck, I should have gone to Keokuk! THE DEACON'S TROUT BY HENRY WARD BEECHER He was a curious trout. I believe he knew Sunday just as well as Deacon Marble did. At any rate, the deacon thought the trout meant to aggravate him. The deacon, you know, is a little waggish. He often tells about that trout. Sez he, "One Sunday morning, just as I got along by the willows, I heard an awful splash, and not ten feet from shore I saw the trout, as long as my arm, just curving over like a bow, and going down with something for breakfast. Gracious! says I, and I almost jumped out of the wagon. But my wife Polly, says she, 'What on airth are you thinkin' of, Deacon? It's Sabbath day, and you're goin' to meetin'! It's a pretty business for a deacon!' That sort o' cooled me off. But I do say that, for about a minute, I wished I wasn't a deacon. But 't wouldn't made any difference, for I came down next day to mill on purpose, and I came down once or twice more, and nothin' was to be seen, tho' I tried him with the most temptin' things. Wal, next Sunday I came along ag'in, and, to save my life I couldn't keep off worldly and wanderin' thoughts. I tried to be sayin' my catechism, but I couldn't keep my eyes off the pond as we came up to the willows. I'd got along in the catechism, as smooth as the road, to the Fourth Commandment, and was sayin' it out loud for Polly, and jist as I was sayin: 'What is required in the Fourth Commandment?' I heard a splash, and there was the trout, and, afore I could think, I said: 'Gracious, Polly, I must have that trout.' She almost riz right up, 'I knew you wa'n't sayin' your catechism hearty. Is this the way you answer the question about keepin' the Lord's day? I'm ashamed, Deacon Marble,' says she. 'You'd better change your road, and go to meetin' on the road over the hill. If I was a deacon, I wouldn't let a fish's tail whisk the whole catechism out of my head'; and I had to go to meetin' on the hill road all the rest of the summer." ENOUGH* BY TOM MASSON I shot a rocket in the air, It fell to earth, I knew not where To shoot more rockets in the air. *By permission of Life Publishing Company. |